May I Shake Your Hand?
by NicNacs
Summary: The first time it happened, Harry was six.


_The usual disclaimers apply._

May I Shake Your Hand?

The first time it happened, Harry was 6. He was hiding behind the bushes in the playground at school, trying to avoid Dudley and Piers. A man in the most ridiculous outfit walked past. He was about five feet along the pavement when he suddenly stopped, and slowly turned back.

"Oh, oh, my! It can't be! My dear child, you aren't?"

Harry looked at him in puzzlement. "Aren't what?"

"_Harry Potter _of course!"

Harry blinked. He had not been expecting that. How had this man known his name? His name, that _he_ barely knew. It was only since he started coming to school last year that he understood that it wasn't "boy". Slowly, he nodded.

The man beamed. "Oh, oh, _my! _My dear boy, would you do me the immense honour of shaking my hand?"

Without waiting for an answer, he somehow reached _through_ the fence and grasped Harry's hand in his own. He shook it up and down several times, blubbering tearfully about how he was so grateful and honoured, before letting go.

The bell went to signal the end of break, and Harry grimaced. "I have to go, sir."

"Of course, of course. It was an honour, young sir, an honour!" The man continued to watch him as he slipped back through the bushes and entered the school, and then walked off, whistling quietly to himself.

And Harry was confused.

* * *

><p>The next time it happened, Harry was 8. It was a summer evening, and he was in the park. He had finished his chores for the day (and what a long list it was!) and had escaped the Dursley's house for an hour or two.<p>

He was sitting quietly on the roundabout - it allowed him to see in all directions, so he could spot Dudley coming early. The roundabout had just swung to face the woods when there was a sharp _crack_, and a man in a _dress_ stepped out from behind a tree.

The man walked briskly out of the woods, towards Harry and the exit from the park. He had almost reached the roundabout when he seemed to notice Harry for the first time. He stopped and looked closely at him. And then blinked.

"_Harry Potter? _ Can it really be?"

Harry remembered the man at the school, when he was six, and desperately wanted to ask how the man knew his name. But if there was one thing he had learnt from the Dursleys, it was _no questions_. So he just nodded, and hoped the man would explain.

"My good sir! Would you do me the honour... may I shake your hand?"

And he grasped Harry's hand, and shook it, and went on his way, muttering happily to himself.

And Harry was confused.

* * *

><p>It happened more often after that. Harry supposed that the man in a dress had told a friend, and that friend had told a friend, although why anyone would bother he didn't know.<p>

It seemed like every month, someone would come up to him and ask to shake his hand. Some men, some women. Some old, some young. Some of them were dressed very very oddly, and some looked almost normal. But they all had this strange feeling of otherness about them, like they didn't quite fit.

As time went on, and the visits became more frequent, Harry became bolder. They all seemed so honoured to meet him. Surely they wouldn't yell at him for asking questions?

So, one day, about a week before his ninth birthday, he plucked up his courage, and asked.

"Ma'am, how do you know my name?"

The woman laughed. It was a gentle tinkling laugh. "You're joking, of course?" Then she peered at him, looking into his eyes. She seemed startled at what she found there. "You're not joking. Wow, I never thought... Mr Potter, the entire wizarding world knows your name, could recognise you by that scar. What you did for us, when you were just a baby... You are famous. Are you really saying you have no idea?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am," whispered Harry. "I... wait. _Wizarding_ world?"

* * *

><p>Later, when a giant of a man burst in to a little hut on an island in the middle of a storm, and announced, "Harry, yer a wizard!", Harry laughed.<p>

And Harry was no longer confused.

END


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